


Beauty and the Silver Beast

by fireroasted



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/F, Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: Tired of the meaningless grind in the big city, Wheein escapes into the forest to search of something beautiful. But the beast she finds in the silver woods is not what she expected.





	1. Beauty and the Silver Beast

When I was young, my parents used to drive me to the edge of our hometown, right by the crown of mountains, to the wave of hills where we would watch the sunset. Sometimes, when I used to lay awake at night, I could still see the golden glow fading into the colour of love personified. If we stayed a little longer, we’d catch the skyful of stars. It always astounded me how the brilliant colours could blend itself into pitch black, yet still find a way to shine. When I was a kid I wanted to bite into the sun, just to taste the warm rays on my tongue. I wanted to touch the moon, run my hand across the surface and figure out its secrets.

 

In my darker days, I’d admire the way the night sky carried those billions of lights. Each seemed like their own world, and I wanted to visit each one. But the city is a concrete cage in so many ways. The kind of place that blocks out the stars just to fill it with our own poor copies—the blaring city lights—and pat ourselves on the back for it. Only the city can turn light into pollution.

 

I was in one of those places after I finished art school. There just wasn’t any beauty in designing soup labels and self-perpetuating propaganda. The trash we feed ourselves to remind us our creations are beautiful. And they must be because we made them. What we made is good, right?

 

Well, I didn’t feel that way anymore. I hated the way my hands moved across the blank canvases, creating the chaos in my mind. Even worse, I hated being told what to create. It was like I had to make my own mould and sit in it.

 

There was nothing beautiful in the city. People told me to look around, study the faces, see the sights. There was so much of everything, there had to be something that could make me happy. I'm not sure I understood myself back then, but I just knew there was nothing there for me, and it was because they were absolutely right.

 

There was so much of everything. People milling about, never seeing each other, running on millions of parallel tracks, weighed down by millions of parallel burdens. All we do is compare the size of our baggage and weigh out our lives by meaningless things. How could there be beauty in that?

 

Sometimes I’d run off to parks and just sit around, but everything was so, so loud. I’d driven out to the edge of town a few times, but the city kept growing. People learned to want the same things: the cars, the highrises, the job, the marriage, the success. Maybe it’s always been this way.

 

And the most ironic secret of all, the whole reason why I watched so many sunsets and built these unrealistic expectations—my father was laid off. Over and over. He pretended to work. Pretended to tell us how cushy his 9-5 job was, and how it gave us so much time together as a family. So we’d go out and watch sunsets in the suburban wild. Just far enough, but never too far. I guess it was his way of running away. Like father, like daughter.

 

The more the urban prison pressed into my soul, the more I needed to run. Job after job tried to cuff me down, tried to feed me their lies just because I didn't know the truth. I tried, I really did. I thought maybe there had to be something about the geometric shapes, all straight lines with the occasional curve for flair. After all, people were obsessed with them. But who was I kidding? I wanted to fly and I hadn't learned I was flightless yet.

 

I wish I could say that I ran into the woods and built a yurt and found my happiness, but the human heart is as fickle as it is complicated. I can't remember the first time I lost faith in the beauty of nature too. I can’t explain it. I guess it just felt like I’d spent my whole life building it up, building my own shrine to the sun and the sky and everything untouched by the clammy hands of humanity. In reality, of course, you don't get beautiful sunsets without tainting the sky first.

 

I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. Just...not this.

 

One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t know what caused it. I guess not every life-changing moment needs a catalyst. It was three in the afternoon, and I’d woken up from a nap, drenched in sweat. I remember looking out my rain-streaked window and seeing the dense traffic below, the plastic trees telling their plastic lies, and endless blocks of the grim grey buildings spreading like a disease beyond the horizon and into the sky. And people. The people! Milling around like zombies, plugged in, blind and deaf—and I was no better. God, I was just the same, no matter how hard I dreamt about being different.

 

I just didn’t want to be there anymore. Box inside a box inside a box. I could spend my whole life colouring my box with rainbow crayons and metallic paint, and it would still be a box.

 

So I drove out to the place where my parents used to take me, then a little further after that. I drove until the path went from asphalt to dirt to grass, and hid my old Sonata out between the long yellow-green tendrils.

 

Did I know what I was doing? Of course not. But my blood was pumping and I didn’t care because I felt so, so, so alive. And it'd been so long that I didn't even know if this was the feeling I was looking for. All I had was a backpack with some rations, a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a pencil, and a pocket sketchbook. At that point, I hadn’t picked up a pencil—or pen, brush, charcoal, crayon, chalk, etc—in months. Too cynical, but not too hopeless.

 

I pushed through the brush and into the woods. I felt the bark beneath my palms and the green beneath my shoes and breathed in the silence. I was all alone beneath the canopy. Alone, but for once not lonely. Not while I could bask in the scent of fresh rain on the leaves.

 

I wandered deeper and deeper into the wood, cutting through the most tangled paths as if I were blocking my own way back. My shoes padded along the soft ground as I looked for a place to lie down.

 

Then, in the mid-afternoon sun, light filled every gap in the trees beyond me. I vaguely remember the silhouette branches dancing in the wind against the blinding white, but it was the next scene that still haunts me today.

 

I ran toward the light, pushing off from trunk to trunk, and when I broke through the trees, I couldn't let go. I kept my hand on the bark, like it was the only thing grounding me into reality. My god it was beautiful.

 

Thick forest on all sides adorned the white, jagged cliffs to form a blue lagoon. I’d never seen anything so blue. The deep lapis lazuli water, the verdant leaves.

 

Pure otherworldly magic.

 

I laid out the sleeping bag between the trees, sighing a little as I gazed out at the lagoon. I wanted to nestle right up against the edge of the water—take it all in. But there was something so incriminating about stepping foot into that painting, like I’d blacken the leaves and fog the water with my presence alone, just by virtue of being human.

 

I was content to lie in the dirt, keep to myself, and admire from afar as I've always done. I watched the faraway sunrise from my sleeping bag that day as the orange rays bloomed and disappeared from behind the trees. It wasn't a perfect view, but somehow it felt like the most perfect sunset I'd ever seen. By the time the light disappeared and the lake’s blue darkened to black, I was comfortably settled inside my sleeping bag.

 

I drifted to sleep easily amongst the sounds of the forest. The cries of the cicadas, the soft sighs of the rustling winds, even the unknown noises—somehow so close but so far away. Somehow there was no fear.

 

I don't remember why I woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn't a moment of panic, and it wasn't a dream. It was as if the sunlight was filtering through a window, urging me to wake up. “It's time,” it seemed to say. Except the sky was pitch black and there wasn't a window for miles. There were nothing but shadows around me, yet I felt a pair of eyes watching me steadily. I don't know what possessed me, but one moment I was laying in my sleeping bag, then in the next moment, I was at the lagoon, steadying myself with a palm against a tree. Staring straight into the eyes of an undefinable beast.

 

It stood, larger than any animal I’ve ever seen, in the middle of the lagoon, its silver mane flowing like soft fire against the moonlight. Where its four paws touched, the water turned into moonlight. The whole lagoon seemed to be lit up by the shimmering light. And its eyes, its white, glowing, pupil-less eyes seemed to inquire into my soul.

 

Who are you?

 

The creature stepped forward, barely a ripple in the water. I stepped back—I wanted to step back, but my heart hammered and my body froze as the creature’s immense form drew closer.

 

Wheein. What a beautiful name.

 

It towered over me, and dipped its head, so close I can see the rise and fall of the creature’s chest. Its voice filled my mind like water, like I could hear nothing else. Its voice, deep and animal yet oddly feminine, felt safe. Its breath felt like a breeze against my cheeks.

 

“How do you know my name?” I stuttered through my fears.

 

You told me.

 

“I didn't say anything.”

 

The creature tilted its head to the side. You didn't have to.

 

“Please get out of my head,” I mumbled.

 

Don't be afraid, it said. It sat down, its massive white paws lined up neatly in front of me. I have no reason to hurt you.

 

So many questions rushed through my mind, yet none came out. The creature simply sat, blinking like a curious house cat, assessing me. Even if it could read my mind, I thought, there would be nothing tangible there. Not even I knew what I was thinking while the gentle, ethereal being watched me.

 

You have many questions, Miss Wheein. The creature’s eyes seemed to twinkle in amusement. Its great long tail swept against the water and onto the shore, sprinkling droplets like it was stardust. Some might say that not all knowing leads to enlightenment.

 

“Why?” I had meant to ask why it was here, speaking to me under the moon, and why it seemed to find me so amusing, but the question came out in a single perfect syllable that seemed to capture everything I felt then.

 

Same as you, perhaps.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The creature turned, and showed me its backside. I noticed for the first time that the silver fur was streaked with black, yet it was no less beautiful in the still blue night. Climb up, it said. I want to show you something. So I did. I dug my fingers into fur, and it was like running them through clouds softer than the feathers of baby birds. It was so beautiful that I couldn’t stand the thought of polluting it even more with my touch. Even less did I want to hurt it by pulling at its fur and throwing my whole body weight onto it.

 

Pull yourself up. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. It paused to let out a grunt, a deep guttural noise that could almost be mistaken for laughter. Beauty doesn’t imply weakness, Wheein, nor is it ever an indicator of strength.

 

I pulled myself up, one tuft of fur at a time, until I was perched on the creature’s head, wrapped in its warmth. Hold on tight. I wrapped the fine silver hairs around my palms and clenched my fist around it.

 

And it leapt. Faster and further than anything on this earth, it leapt into the sky and landed gently on a tree, barely disturbing it enough to shake its leaves. We leapt across the treetops, one at a time. The moon looked so close above us, and the sky was filled with billions of stars I’d never seen before. If not for the birds nearly colliding into us in their fear and rage, I would’ve thought that I’d dreamt all of this up. I can still taste the salt breeze on my tongue, and the warmth of the creature’s body emanating through my skin. I briefly considered whether I had died in the night and was being taken to heaven by this big, silver beast. But even that thought didn’t seem so scary while I clung to the creature’s head.

 

We stopped on a white cliff that overlooked the moon, the stars, the forests below, and ocean in the horizon. Just before the forest blends into the ocean were the glittering lights of the city, almost unrecognizable, tiny, and insignificant in the distance. The creature shook me off, and I slid down its back, wobbling when I touched the ground. Almost immediately, I felt its tail sweep up and push gently across my chest to help me regain my footing.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered, as if the tail itself was alive.

 

Come. This is the beauty you seek, isn’t it?

 

I blinked up at the field of stars and the pale white of the full moon casting its shadow on us. I stepped closer to the edge, as if trying to insert myself into the picture. Birds flew below us, reminding me that everything was alive. I could almost picture it then. From the stragglers in the city losing their way in their drunken haze, to the insects in the trees crawling and feeding—they were all alive. From here, the furthest perspective, you couldn’t see any of the things that marred. All the bad things, ugly things, were tucked away, invisible.

 

“But you know it’s there.”

 

I whipped around and gasped.

 

The beast was gone.

 

In its place was a woman in a flowing white dress, her black curls flowered around her head in the still night, framing her playful smile. I glanced down at the lavender fawn lily between her long fingers, so stark against her white dress.

 

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders back. Tuffs of silver fur drift into the air and disappears into the wind. “Hello, Wheein,” she said. Her voice, with the animal rubbed out, was deep, velvet, and whimsical. Her shadow, stretched out by the moon, seemed to hold mine captive.

 

“You look startled.”

 

“Who are you?” I finally asked.

 

“You’re wondering whether I'm the beauty or the beast,” she stated with a smirk.

 

“I'm wondering who you are and why you brought me here.”

 

She laughed, rich and musical, as she walked toward me. I flinched back instinctively, but she simply handed me the fawn lily in her hand. “I picked this for you,” she said, her smile suddenly shy, “earlier. While you were thinking.”

 

I caressed the curve of the soft petals. “It's beautiful,” I said.

 

“Yes.” She stepped toward the cliff, and turned her back to me. “It's one of the most beautiful wildflowers in the world. Among thousands and thousands of wildflowers, this one is considered beautiful. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Because it is.”

 

“Or is it because we make it so?”

 

She looked out at the horizon with her hands on her hips. “I'm happy you think I'm beautiful,” she said. I blushed fiercely. “I'm happy you see beauty in me. But you. Your heart tells me you don't think you're beautiful.” She turned then, and gave me a wide grin. “Though you are one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen. Now why is that?”

 

I remember that distinctly indescribable feeling—my heart in my throat, my mouth dry—with something rumbling inside of me. I wanted badly to believe her, but in the face of one as exquisite as her...

 

“You don't believe me,” she said. Then she chuckled, and waved for me to stand by her. I took the few steps it took to join her at the cliff’s edge, gently spinning the fawn lily in my hand. Her arm swept along the line of the horizon. “All of this,” she said, “is beautiful. It may not be pure, but it is beautiful. Even the cityscape with it's dark crevices, and the creatures hunting between the trees. You might disdain the violence as I do, but others might find it beautiful. I can't stand violence—it's so raw and repulsive—and yet it’s the one thing that I can't control. It's a part of us we can't change. Your heart told me you think I'm beautiful, but I ate a rabbit before you woke, you know. Or at least I think it was a rabbit.” I gave her a long look, but she did not meet my eyes. “My mouth was covered in blood, and my ears were ringing with its screaming soul. There was so much blood. It ran down my fur and seeped into the dirt. And then I saw you, sleeping so peacefully among the trees, and you were so human and so beautiful.”

 

I gazed out at the ever-blinking city. The image, vivid as it was, was rife something prickling in her voice. I gathered a breath. “A bit of blood around the mouth is nothing compared to some of the awful things people are capable of doing.”

 

She gazed at me in awe. “Extraordinary. You’re really extraordinary, you know that? Somehow, you make me feel more human than I’ve felt in a long while.”

 

“Is that a good thing?”

 

She reached across the stretch of space between us and brushed my cheek with a thumb, the tip of her pointed nail gently dragging across my skin. It reminded me that she wasn’t human—that she was far more beautiful this way. “Yes,” she said. “Only humans can love as fiercely as they do.”

 

I swallowed—she was so close I could smell the scent of leaves on her skin. “Some species of birds,” I stammered, “are far more loyal.”

 

The woman laughed, and shook her head. “Birds don’t write poetry about it,” she said, dropping her hand. I missed its warmth immediately, and a glance into her dancing eyes told me she was only too aware of my feelings. But she pointed toward the city. “For every rotten core in that concrete prison, as your heart likes to call it, is a shining soul yearning, fighting, and pushing against it. Don’t you think that’s beautiful? Even the lagoon you love so much is not without its demons. Hell knows how many times I’ve tainted its waters with blood. But the lagoon fights back—it purifies.”

 

I grasped her wrist, and held her eyes, the dimmed light inside it so familiar to my own. So I said the one thing I could not say to myself: “It’s not the lagoon’s fault. And it’s not your fault either.”

 

The woman smiled slowly, and allowed the silence to stretch. I watched the waves and the rustle of the trees, oddly never wondering how I was going to get home. I simply took things in, felt the wind in my hair, and felt the warmth of the woman’s fingers intertwined with my own. I said nothing while she worked through something in her mind, and in that moment, I was envious of her ability to read my mind—hers must be infinitely more fascinating.

 

“Wheein,” she said. Her eyes flickered from mine to the sky, then back to me. Her teeth, a sharp canine among the row of perfect white, poked out to chew at her bottom lip. “I've been honest with you. As best as I could be. I know I'm just an animal. Even my own reflection scares me sometimes when I see the blood running from my lips, but I—”

 

“You want to kiss me.” I spoke the words as I processed the thought, each word falling like the first raindrops in a desert as the realization hit.

 

The woman blinked. “Yeah. I do. Did you...can you read minds too?”

 

I laughed. “No, but I can tell.”

 

She cleared her throat, and met my eyes steadily. “Well, I do. May I?” She stepped closer into my space.

 

I put a hand on her shoulder, torn between pulling her closer and pushing her back. “I don't even know your name,” I mumbled. “Or who you are.”

 

She stepped closer still. “My name is Ahn Hyejin,” she said, her breath warm against my lips. “I'm just a simple animal.”

 

She closed the space between us, and it was so perfect that I kissed her back, slow and gentle at first, but a low purr from Hyejin’s throat seemed to send her into overdrive. She pushed and pushed, her hands digging into my flesh, eyes closed and frantic, she pressed up against me, crushing the flower between us. I gasped for breath against her mouth, my blood pumping with exhilaration, but something was different, changing, raw, and I turned my face, only to feel her lips on my skin as the hum of her purring filled the crevices of our cliff’s edge. Finally, I pushed her back by the shoulders, far back to look her in the eyes in attempt to break her trance. I called out to her over and over, shaking her by the shoulders until her eyes finally snapped open. Her pupils--two sharp vertical lines in her glowing eyes--slowly transformed back into their deep brown form.

 

“Fuck,” she cursed softly, clutching her arms against herself. “No, no, no, not again. I thought I was stronger than this. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Wheein. I didn’t think this would happen again.” She scrambled to the edge of the cliff, and fell onto all fours, cursing and apologizing again and again.

 

“Hey,” I reached out tentatively, “it's okay. It's okay. Nobody got hurt. You lost control for only a moment, but it's okay.”

 

My fingers brushed her bare shoulder, drawing her eyes up to meet mine with the simple gesture. Hyejin drew her brows together. “You don’t get it. You don’t get how lonely it is up here. This...when I lose control, I can really hurt you, Wheein. I’ve hurt others before, and I don’t want to hurt you too. Not one as beautiful as you.”

 

I scoffed. “Beauty isn’t weakness, remember? I’ll be fine.”

 

Hyejin sniffled, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let me take you home,” she said. A white glow surrounded her, from her hands extending to the rest of her body, morphing and growing and shaping, until once more the beast stood in front of me.

 

I picked up the bent and twisted petals of the fawn lily.

 

I don’t remember the ride back very well. It was somber, from what I recall, or I may have fallen asleep in Hyejin’s silver fur. I remember how much I loved her scent, and her softness. I remember turning the key in my car, and thinking about the kiss all the way back to my apartment.

 

Soon after meeting Hyejin, I got an internship at an advertising firm. I put in my time, worked hard, got paid, created art. Art that perpetuated all the ugly cycles of beauty. I often wondered, especially when I walked into my apartment to see the framed remainders of the fawn lily on my wall, what Hyejin would think of me. Hyejin, even with her wild side, was so innocent, pure, beautiful, and kind in my memory.

 

This world, all synthetic colours and synthetic people, just seems so meaningless compared to a woman like Hyejin. And so, after approximately six months of searching the city for something worthwhile, I returned to the forest. I was better prepared this time with nearly my entire apartment on my back, a tent under one arm, and the framed fawn lily under the other. It took me nearly two days to find the lagoon, but it was no less beautiful a second time.

 

Lapis lazuli blue, emerald greens, and pale white rocks. But nothing captured my attention. I looked across the lagoon in hopes of seeing just a wisp of silver. I put my tent up and waited.

 

For five days, I waited, rationing my food out very carefully. My bag was emptying out quickly, but I didn’t want to go back to the city for food. I fended off my hunger and boredom through exploration, brief excursions around the lagoon while I carved out maps in my sketchbook in my efforts to let the landscape tame me. Once in a while I'd listen to the sounds of the forest and let it wash over me. Every morning, I’d practice scaling trees, and it was on the fifth day, when I had finally reached one of the low-hanging branches overlooking the lagoon, that I heard her voice again. The animalistic rumble blended with Hyejin’s voice nearly knocked me off my branch.

 

Why are you still here?

 

I pulled myself up, hugging the trunk as my knees knocked together like a newborn deer until I had the confidence to straighten out my spine. But one glance at the water and rocks below told me that Hyejin’s enormous creature form was hiding, somehow. I kept one hand on the trunk. “You know why I’m here,” I called out, cupping my free hand around my lips to project my voice at a broader scope. “You can hear my heart, right? Then why are you hiding?”

 

You don't know what you want.

 

My finger clawed into the bark. “Don't tell me what I know and don't know, Hyejin!” I roared from the tree.

 

This can't be, Wheein. You don't even know me. Your heart is in chaos.

 

“My heart isn't something for you to interpret,” I said quietly. “Just come out.” I clambered down awkwardly, shuffling down the trunk like a baby learning to walk for the first time.

 

“Can I see you now?” I said, approaching the edge of the lagoon. I shielded my eyes from the mid-afternoon sun. Sweat clung to my shirt and shorts as the sun baked the moisture out of my skin. Dirt-streaked, scratched up, and stinking, I knew I wasn't the pretty sight I was six months ago. It was too late, but I hoped Hyejin would see me the same way.

 

I heard the rustle of leaves before I saw it. I crept closer. I was ankle deep in the water, shaking with anticipation.

 

Then she stepped out. Even across the lagoon, I could see her silver fur, almost white against the sun. She shook her coat and stepped out from the foliage.

 

Red. Fresh, glistening reds, blacks, and maroons bloomed like a jagged, misshapen star on her face, streaking, dripping down her chest, down her right leg, and disappearing into the ground. Her ear twitched.

 

She stepped onto the lagoon, blood rippling into blue waters, and disappearing into its shallows. She stalked closer and closer. It's just Hyejin, I told myself. But I couldn't contain the fear. The bloodied muzzle loomed over my head, blocking out the sun.

 

It's different, isn't it? Reality. You can say whatever you want until you're confronted with the truth. But reality is unpredictable. She huffed, her breath like a salty sea breeze, and turned away. This is my reality. I'm just a monster. Go home, Wheein.

 

Carefully, I sidled up to her, reached out and pulled on a tuft of white fur along her side. “Just because you can read my mind doesn't mean you can put words in my mouth,” I said, softly stroking the matted fur. “Will you show me your human form?”

 

Her tail swished. Her glowing white eyes watched me from their peripheral.

 

“Please.”

 

Her huge body engulfed itself in light, and, moments later, Hyejin laid, chest heaving, in the water, looking up at me with an unreadable expression. The brown blood, painted from her face to her cheeks and all the way down to her neck and arms, darkened the water.

 

“Do you believe me now?” She said with a bitter smile. “It's not pretty.”

 

I knelt down by her side, ignoring the rocks in the lagoon digging into my skin. “I spent six months trying to look for beauty in all things. Just the way you told me. And I was miserable. All I did was think of you and the kiss, and even now, you are striking. Yes, I was afraid. Anyone would be. But I don't find you any less beautiful.You know I’m telling the truth, even if it's not the truth you want to hear.

 

She sat up, and said nothing for a long time. Meanwhile, I couldn't help but stare at the way the thin cotton dress clung to her body in the water. The tan skin against the thin, white material left little to imagination. I could feel her eyes, knowing she was reading me in that moment, but even then I could not tear my eyes away. So, basking in my own shame, I simply stared.

 

When she said nothing still, I leaned over her and pressed a palm against her cheek. “You'll get your hands dirty,” she whispered, her brown eyes boring into my own. I tilted my head and pressed my lips on hers. She tasted like metal and salt. My heart hammered, flashing back to her glowing catlike eyes. I felt her jaw move beneath my touch, and the scrape of her canine against my bottom lip as she returned the kiss.

 

I felt her hand on my shoulder, and in the next moment, she was gone. I opened my eyes. Her brown eyes glowed at me, several shades lighter than they were.

 

“You’re covered in blood,” she said lightly.

 

“So are you.”

 

She chuckled, and it was only then that I realized how much I missed the sound. “Well, I have no choice. You, on the hand, seem to invite this darkness.”

 

“I could argue the same,” I said with a grin. “I couldn't help myself. I had no choice but to come back.”

 

I reached for her once more, but she held my forearm and stopped me there, my fingers grasping at the air. “You know I can't always be in control,” she said warily. “You know I can hurt you, and you're still thinking I am better than I really am. Please, Wheein.”

 

I withdrew my hand. “I just don't think you're the monster you think you are,” I murmured.

 

Hyejin pressed her palms on her thighs and pushed herself up to a standing position, rising out of the water like a mermaid with her long black hair falling in matted waves around her shoulder. My eyes wandered over the length of her body, and, ashamed once more, I squeezed my eyes shut.

 

“You can look,” she said shyly. I opened my eyes in time to catch the blur of white as she peels off her dress and rubs it across her face and arms, smearing off as much of the blood as she could. “It makes me feel more human.” She blushed brightly and looked away, tucking the bundle of cloth under her elbow as she crossed her arms across her chest. And I looked. Her golden skin glimmered so beautifully under the sun. I wanted to reach out and take a bite, taste the salt and radiance on my tongue. I wanted to feel the muscles flex under my palms. I wanted—

 

Her eyes began to glow.

 

“Would you risk your life to satisfy this fleeting desire?” She ran the very tip of her nail across my shoulder.

 

“Yes. I want to know everything about you.”

 

Her fingers trailed away. “Don't be ridiculous.”

 

She leapt into the sun, and transformed once more into the beast. Go home, she growled, affixing me with her pupil-less eyes.

 

I stood in the middle of the lagoon, knee deep now in water, and watched her leap back into the woods. Long after she left, I continued to stand there, gazing after the shadow of where she once was, half expecting her to come back.

 

I didn't leave the forest that day. Or the days following that. Instead I scaled higher on the trees, learned which fruit were safe to eat, and began collecting wild flowers. I kept my framed fawn lily inside my tent, and every day I would pick a single wildflower to sit on top of the glass frame. The pile of brilliant yellows and reds and blues on top of my fawn lily grew steadily as the days passed. But even when I could no longer see the fawn lily, I continued to think about Hyejin’s earnest eyes and gentle wildness.

 

To anyone from the outside looking in, I must've seemed crazy or obsessed or both. But I didn't expect anyone to be able to understand what I barely understood it myself. Maybe I was obsessed. I spent my days crafting up plans—building fires, forging tools, fishing, scavenging, planting, and growing food—decorating my tent, and drawing in the sand. I did whatever I felt like doing. On some days, when I was really bored, I ran laps around the lagoon. It was always a pleasant surprise to see my reflection when I stood at the edge of the lake. Despite the wild, tangled hair, the torn clothes, and the thin, ever-present layer of dirt and grime—I made sure to bathe in a nearby stream every day to retain some semblance of civilization—my reflection radiated strength. I loved the tan, toned limbs—so reminiscent of Hyejin’s—the callused, scratched up palms, and the bright eyes, alive and alert. I was wild in those days, but I wore these changes like a trophy, and I’d never felt more beautiful.

 

The wildflowers began to pour around the the frame, a little every day. I no longer counted them. I wondered whether my friends and families thought of me, but I was so apt to disappear for months at a time that they probably assumed I was just at home raving at the scars on our world.

 

I’d almost forgotten what I was waiting for when I heard her voice again.

 

Seventeen flowers.

 

Only seventeen? I thought lucidly. I could've gone on forever.

 

You've been here for too long.

 

I jolted awake from my nook in the tree, and scanned the lagoon, storeys below. I could barely make out the moon from from between the leaves, but I pushed myself up to stand on the branch in a single practiced motion, and looked out across darkness. Miles away, something howled.

 

Why are you still here?

 

I climbed down and ran to the edge of the lagoon, and there she was. Under the moon on the other side of the shore, just like when we first met.

 

“I was waiting for you,” I said.

 

In a single mighty leap through the sky, she soared and landed soundlessly in front of me. Are you always so persistent? She said. The moonlight bounced off her sharp teeth. The forest is taming you.

 

With a grin, I raced forward and embraced her chest, gathering an armful of silver fur. “But I’ve never felt so wild.”

 

You need to get home. Your real home. Or you’ll lose your humanity.

 

“You’ve been here forever, and you still have yours.”

 

A low rumble emitted from Hyejin’s throat and rolled through my body. What do you want from me?

 

“You know what I want.”

 

So we’re at a standstill.

 

I pulled back and made my way into my tent. Your tent is in bad shape. I looked up and around at the sagging material and the twisted pegs. “Not everything has to be beautiful to be comfortable,” I said nonchalantly.

 

No, but you shouldn’t have to live like this.

 

“Here,” I said, thrusting bundle of wildflowers forward. One of two slipped through my fingers along with a light shower of petals, but I stood steadfast. Hyejin leaned forward and sniffed the flowers.

 

Why?

 

“Wildflowers from around the lagoon,” I said simply. “Some would argue that they are all equally beautiful, but among all the flowers that I have seen, none are as beautiful as the fawn lily I framed. Now why is that?”

 

She grunted, her long mouth pulling back into a sort of scowl, smirk, or smile. Because you made it so.

 

“No.” I shook my head. “For a mind-reader, you sure like to pretend to be terrible at this. Or maybe you don’t want to be good at this. Either way, it’s the truth: the fawn lily is beautiful because you made it so. I can’t think of its crushed petals without thinking of the way you looked when I first saw you under the moon—purple against slate grey shadows on your white dress.” I extended the batch of yellowing wildflowers further toward her. “All of these pale in comparison to the fawn lily, as pretty as they are. Maybe under different circumstances, I could think of these as beautiful. This one is the colour of the lagoon in the day, where I first met you. That one is the colour of your dress. And this one is the colour of your eyes when you show me your desire. See? Now I have made them more beautiful.”

 

A flash of white light, and a hand reached out and pulled the bouquet of dead or dying flowers from my grip, and threw them to the sand. “Every day that I watched you pick those flowers was a day watching you lose yourself in the wild. They’re ugly, Wheein. Even your heart knows they’re ugly, and yet you’ve convinced yourself they’re beautiful. You can't keep lying to yourself! You...You hear the cries in the forest. You hear what happens when I hunt, but you still pretend you don't hear it. Open your eyes!”

 

Her brown eyes blazed, and I, at the horror of seeing my flowers being thrown to the ground, felt the fury burn from her eyes to my soul. “Why did you do that?” I demanded.

 

“I can’t be with you, Wheein,” she cried, throwing her arms above her head. “I just can’t! I’m-I’m look at me!” A white light glowed from behind, and stretched and grew into a tail. She wrapped her hands around the fur and shook like her life depended on it. “Look at me,” she continued, quiet, resigned, and demure. The tail fell from her hand and into the sand. “We just can’t. I can’t always be like this. Do you understand, Wheein? I not always human! Stop pretending I'm some kind of angel when you and I both know what I really am. I-I can't make you better. I can't make this better.”

 

She fell to her knees. Under the moonlight, wrapped in her silver tail, she looked so small and fragile, like a porcelain figment of my imagination. I knelt down before her, and touched her tail. It shivered and whipped around behind her, opening the way for me to dive in and embrace her once more.

 

I closed my eyes and slipped my arms around her, her body far smaller than I’d remembered. Soft. Everything about her was soft, as if I was enveloped in the silver fur. Her breath was a warm summer breeze against my ear, and it felt right. Whatever this feeling was, it felt so right.

 

“Why did you have to fall in love with me, Wheein?”

 

My eyes flew open, and I made a move to break away, but Hyejin kept her arms around my back, holding her chin against my shoulder. I wanted to struggle free, wanted to see her face, wanted to run away from the truth I couldn’t admit.

 

Instead, I relaxed—allowing my body to melt into hers—and clutched at the thin cloth of her dress. “I guess there’s no use denying it. How do you expect me to explain why? It just happens. Isn’t that the beauty of it? You’re the one who finds love beautiful. Isn’t that a part of it?”

 

She was silent for a long time as she held me close, as if she were afraid to look into my eyes and confront my feelings physically. I could feel her rhythm vibrate against me, the fear rubbing off, and something else—so I dared to hope—a care beyond ordinary kindness. She sighed and spoke, like a gunshot by my ear: “Do I have to hurt you for you to change your mind?”

 

“You won't.”

 

“You can't be sure.”

 

“I can.”

 

“How?”

 

“Because,” I pushed her shoulders back to meet her dark eyes, “I think you feel the same.”

 

She lowered her head to rest her forehead on my shoulder. “It doesn't matter,” she said, exhaling, “there's a monster inside that I can't control. I don't know what happens to me. I've woken up before with shreds of bloody clothing at my feet and no memory of the previous night. All I know is that you shouldn't stay and I should never see you again. I don't want to put you through the horror, Wheein. I’m not worth it.”

 

“For every monster in the world, there's an earnest soul fighting to vanquish it. That's the beauty of our world. You told me something along those lines, didn't you?” I ran my fingers through the cascade of black hair. “I want to fight alongside you.”

 

She scoffed, straightened up and met my eyes. “You really are extraordinary. For better or for worse.”

 

I planted one foot into the sand and hoisted myself up, then, with a grin, extended a hand to Hyejin. She clapped her hand into my own. “Let’s go for a walk around the lagoon,” I said, pulling her up to her feet.

 

Together, we circled the lagoon and followed the moon into the trees. Our conversations flowed and ebbed like the tides. Even the silences tingled between our interlinked fingers. She told me her story, and I told her mine.

 

“How old are you anyway?” I asked her.

 

“I was born in 95.”

 

“1895…?”

 

“1595.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“I’m kidding, Wheein. Don't believe everything you hear. I was born in 1995. July 23rd.”

 

I stopped in my tracks. The only sound in the forest must’ve been my jaw hitting the floor. “I'm older than you!” I cried.

 

She laughed, and spun me around for a hug. “Not all supernatural beings have to be hundreds of years old, you know. No matter what people tell you. Spirituality, legendary tales, and mythical beasts—we don't just go away because people are distracted by the Internet.”

 

“Have you always lived in the forest by yourself?”

 

She shook her head. “I spent most of my life in these forests. My parents gave me up because I was a little monster. In the literal sense, of course. That was before I could control my abilities. They took me away into some facility, where they tried everything they could to take the monster out of me. The one good thing they ever did for me was teach me how to speak, read, and write. My monster side saved me, you know. I was there for nearly two years when I woke up one day in the forest. I don't know what I did to get there, but I was covered in blood.” She shivered. I squeezed her hand. “Sorry, I don't want to go into it too much. Let's just say that I am very aware of just how monstrous humans can be. And how I can be.”

 

“I don't think you're a monster at all,” I told her. “You’re a warrior. And one of the sweetest and gentlest people I've ever met.”

 

She kissed my knuckle, a sad smile adorning her lips. “You haven't seen it for yourself. What the hunt is like. When the monstrous part of me takes over my human or beast form...it's horrifying. I’ve been cursed to watch myself tear these poor animals apart and do nothing. Sometimes my subconscious fades altogether, and I wake up covered in blood. It's never my own, though I've wished many times that it is. Better than whoever else had to suffer.”

 

“But that night on the cliff. You were able to pull yourself back.”

 

She considered this for a moment, then simply shrugged. “Yes. You were lucky. It could have been far worse, I think. But that's enough about me. Tell me something about you.”

 

Sensing her discomfort, I quickly dove into my childhood stories. And as mundane as my own story was, she listened intensely, for she could see the shapes of my thoughts and emotions, but none of this history that build it up.

 

“Every living thing has a soul,” she later explained, “a breathing light that reflects your emotions. It doesn’t speak a human language.”

 

“So you don’t read minds?” I asked.

 

“Not in the way you might think. The human mind is infinitely complicated. I don’t think anyone can untangle the mess of abstraction in our heads. I could read the spectrum of colours and the shapes, but the truth is, they are only very practiced guesses. I can see now that your soul isn't the same as when we first met. It's brighter, and more at ease.”

 

“How did you know I’m in love with you?”

 

“Your heart,” she says, lightly poking it with a finger. “It pulses and glows a fiery orange when I approach you. I wish you could see it. It's very beautiful.”

 

We trailed through an invisible dirt path in the forest and emerged on a still, white beach. Before us, the ocean was set aflame by the orange glow of the sunrise. “Is my heart an orange like that?” I asked, turning to look at her profile. I admired the way her tanned skin glowed and the way the sun danced like flames in her eyes.

 

She smiled, and returned my gaze. “Just like that. But even prettier.”

 

“Do you know what I'm thinking now?” I asked with a tilt of my head.

 

“You don't need to read minds to see the way you're looking at my lips, Wheein.”

 

“Well.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m waiting.”

 

She bit her lip. I held her hand and watched the turmoil brew across her features. The ocean breeze rolled over our skin. I waited. I had waited seventeen days to be near her again. Seventeen flowers, one for each day I basked in her world, waiting for it to accept me—I could wait a moment longer.

 

She tucked my hair behind my ear.

 

“All those months ago, it seemed so much easier to kiss you then,” she sighed. “But there is weight to it now. Consequences.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Serious consequences.”

 

“I’m going to do it if you aren't,” I huffed.

 

“No! I can do it!”

 

I crossed my arms across my tattered shirt and closed my eyes. Two sticky palms pressed against my arms. She stepped closer into my space. Her hair fell against my cheek. Her eyes drew closer. “Don't close your eyes,” I mumbled against her lips.

 

I fought to keep my own eyes open when she kissed me so gently, but I wanted to see it: the exact moment the monster inside threatened to surface. I ran a hand down her chest, along her abdomen, resting to caress the soft skin of her thinly covered hips. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her irises flickered between her deep brown and a light caramel. I pressed closer.

 

“Lie down,” I murmured against her, easing her into the sand. “We’ll be okay.”

 

I climbed over her hips and gazed over the beautiful body below me, with her hair splayed like a dark mane around her head, her long fingers gripped around my wrist, and her eyes glowing a soft amber under the orange rays. I couldn't tell if it was Hyejin staring back at me, but I remembered thinking that such a beautiful creature, so pure and genuine in spite of the hunger laced in her expression, could not be a monster.

 

“You look like a lioness,” I said, bending forward to capture her lips once more.

 

“If only it were that predictable and easy,” she chuckled. “You’re really determined, aren't you?”

 

I straightened up, and pawed at the material over her stomach. “Yes. But you can see that, can't you?”

 

She gasped when I reached up to cup her breasts, and it almost seemed like instinct when she sat up and grabbed my forearm to still my movements. “Maybe we need some kind of safe word. There's no guarantee how useful it would be, but I really, really don't want to hurt you.”

 

I thought for a moment. “How about ‘Picasso’?”

 

She relaxed her grip. “Picasso?”

 

“Yeah. The painter. His colours remind me of us,” I said shyly. “I guess it made more sense in my head.”

 

She smiled affectionately. “Okay. If it doesn’t work, you have to promise me that you’ll do anything to save yourself. Anything.”

 

“You’re not a monster, Hyejin,” I murmured, kissing her forehead. It was an endless echo, but I hoped that—just once—it would get through to her.

 

“Promise me.” One hand ran up my side and down my arm, while the other held up a pinky. “Please.”

 

I hooked my finger around hers. “I promise.”

 

Our touches were slow and careful to start. She set the pace, her eyes flickering in colour and intensity—I could only imagine the war within as her hands roamed my body. I wanted her so badly that I found myself searching for those glowing cat eyes from the cliff top. For her to take me with her unchained desire. And I could see—as her irises began to glow in lighter and lighter shades—that she was losing to her own desires just as I was.

 

As I laid in the sand, naked under the warmth of her gaze, I remember the way the sun had cast our entire world in red and orange as it rose to the sky. Everything was on fire, inside and out. All except her blue-white eyes, like two marbles cut through the center with her long, thin pupils.

 

I can’t hold back.

 

I only had a moment to glance at her frozen lips before she pushed my shoulders down and pressed hard kisses along my jaw. Her teeth scraped along my skin, frantic hands curved along my hips and thighs. She drank from me with an unquenchable thirst: haphazardly desperate with broad, powerful strokes in every movement. I must’ve drawn blood along the scars I painted on her back when she sent me screaming off the edge. But even then she didn’t relent.

 

By the time the sun rose above us and the world lost its red hue, I was delirious. I couldn’t remember how many times I came, and—as amazing as it was—every muscle in me screamed for a moment’s reprieve. I pushed her back and called her name in between the cries of my oversensitive flesh, but she didn’t budge.

 

It took several long moments to find myself amidst the pleasure and remember the safe word. Then several more for my dry lips and hoarse throat to form the sounds. “Picasso!” I cried.

 

Her movements froze almost immediately, with one hand pressed into my thigh, three fingers buried deep inside, and her mouth hovering above the curves of my stomach. I gazed into her glowing cat eyes and waited. But the only movement was my heaving chest as I tried to catch my breath.

 

“Picasso,” I whimpered again.

 

She blinked, and her eyes darkened, dilated. She shook her head and gasped, as if she’d just woken up in an unfamiliar place. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, withdrawing her fingers immediately. I closed my eyes and winced at the way everything ached. She stretched out my legs and gently wiped at something on my thigh with the pad of her thumb. “You’re all scratched up. I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop. I felt you in my arms and I just...couldn’t stop. I hurt you. Look at your beautiful skin, oh god, I hurt you so badly.”

 

The sight of Hyejin kneeling beside me, rubbing her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, babbling and sniffling, warmed my heart. Her wild animal side was so aggressively attractive, yet this side, the side that calmed her to a hiccup when I knelt and kissed away the tears, was equally beautiful. “I’m fine,” I told her, with a grin. “You were amazing.”

 

“I saw you and I felt you, and it felt so right, that I couldn’t stop. It was like I was watching from far, but I was right up against you at the same time. My own mind...everything just shifted. I think,” she sniffled, “I think the monster took over...sort of...but you pulled me out. When you said ‘Picasso,’ it was like I was being dragged out of a deep pool of jelly, and all I can see was you. It’s...amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. Wheein, I...I’m...thank you. For trusting me.”

 

I looked down at my knee. “Could I,” I said slowly, “return the favour?”

 

“You...what?”

 

“I want to touch you.” I held out my hand, and gently tugged her onto my lap. She swung her hair to the side, and looked up.

 

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice low.

 

She didn’t give me the chance to reply.

 

My thoughts halted when she pulled off the dress, so close this time, leaving nothing to my imagination. The morning sun, a halo around her head, illuminated the thin layer of sweat on her skin. She was radiant. It was surreal, being so absorbed in her shade, being able to stand so close and breathe her in, being able to touch her. It felt criminal—like pressing a palm against the Mona Lisa’s face.

 

She lifted my hand and pressed my it to her chest. Her heart beat wildly beneath my fingers. I began just as carefully, hoping I wouldn’t awaken the other side once more. No, I wanted her to feel everything: the trust, the strength and the even the weaknesses. All these things that add up to the poetry of love she loved so much.

 

Her steady brown eyes disappeared beneath her lids as she rolled her head back and succumbed to my touch. I allowed my hands, lips, and teeth to roam. Down her front, sides, and—

 

“Oh my god.” I snapped my hand like I’d run it through a flame.

 

Her eyes fluttered open. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

“Turn around. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Your back! Does it hurt? I’m so sorry. Earlier, I must’ve...I’m sorry.”

 

She craned her neck back to look. “I’m sure it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

 

I swallowed. “Maybe.”

 

“Good,” she grinned.

 

“What? No!”

 

“Why not? It’s your mark. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

 

“But it’s a scar!”

 

“That you made because you trusted me. Because we were able to share this moment together. It’s more than just a scar. Just like how your fawn lily is more than just a flower.”

 

I ran a finger down the red wound, tracing it from her shoulder to the middle of her back. I didn’t miss the way her muscles tensed when I pressed a kiss beside the scar. She arched her back. I pulled her as close as I could, my chest flush against her back. My lips toyed with the shell of her ear while my hands explored.

 

I loved the little noises she made, so wild and human at the same time—so uniquely her own as she tried to hold it back. My finger eased between her teeth, urging her find her voice as I travelled further south. “Are you still with me, Hyejin?” I whispered.

 

She nodded stiffly, shivering as I finally reached my destination.

 

It was a slow climb to the summit as we moved to the rhythm of the waves, just skin against skin as the clouds shaded us from the glare of the sun. As she got closer and closer to the top, she folded forward and planted both hands in the sand. On all fours, the scar caught the glint of the sun from between the clouds, and I kissed it gingerly once more. There was something so beautifully primal about the way our sounds mixed together as I too fell on all fours to taste her for the first time.

 

And when we finally laid, catching our breath in silence, chests heaving, brown eyes reflecting brown, I felt like I found my place in the world. And she, grinning in the afterglow of lovemaking, looked at me the same way.

 

“Wheein,” she said. I snuggled closer. She ran a hand through my hair, down my back, and rested it protectively around my waist. “Your soul is so gorgeous right now.”

 

“Probably because I’m really in love right now.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“I know.”

 

Hyejin quirked a brow. “Are you sure you can’t read hearts?”

 

“You’re very obvious, you know,” I chuckled, gently poking her on the nose. “I don’t need to see the shape of your soul to feel the love in your arms and the way you look at me. Though it would be really useful when I have my doubts.”

 

She tugged me closer still, until my nose was buried in her scent and my chin rested in the nook of her neck as if it was crafted just for me. “I really want to be with you, Wheein,” she confessed.

 

“I want to be with you too.”

 

Her eyes flashed white for a moment as a reminder. “But the compromises—”

 

“I’m ready. For whatever comes our way,” I said, gently laying my hand on her scar. “We’ll figure it out together.”

 

She laugh, and squeezed me. “Nothing scares you, does it?”

 

“Not anymore.”

 

When I finally got back to the city, I wrote my friends and family. They thought I was crazy, of course, but I asked them to trust me—not that they could've stopped me while I had Hyejin’s warm eyes glowing in the back of my mind. I sold my apartment and my car and bought a plot of land as close to the lagoon—and as far from the city—as I could. Even with all of my savings, I collected barely enough money to demolish the shack that came with my new property, but I insisted on a new house. One with high ceilings and open spaces that could accommodate Hyejin’s two selves. I begged and borrowed until the day I walked through those doors and made my home tor the first time. It was my dream to live beside her in all her forms, and I didn't stop until I made it happen.

 

And eventually, after countless pitfalls, hurdles, and tears, it did. We made a home. It wasn't perfect—as things seldom are even from afar—but nothing is more be perfect for us.

 

We live off the land for the most part, growing our own food. We planted beds of flowers on the side, which I sold to pay off my debts along with my paintings. And as our love grew over the years, Hyejin began to hunt less and less. There used to be days where I'd find her in the forest at dawn, crying over the body of an innocent animal. And there were times where she'd disappear for days, too ashamed to come home. We never ate meat at home, though I eventually began to raise chickens in our backyard. I named each of them and called them our feathered children, and her monster—as she still likes to call it—never went near it. I don't think either of us can pinpoint the exact moment when she stopped feeding altogether. It faded naturally, and we didn't question it.

 

As for the cat-eyed beast, we never managed to fully domesticate it when it did appear, though I can't say we tried very hard. We mostly navigated around it, and was able to keep it at bay in those quiet, sweet nights.

 

We kept to ourselves for the most part, leading a quiet life on the farm. Most evenings, we roamed the forest—sometimes hand-in-hand along the lagoon; sometimes my hands around her neck as she leapt through the treetops. She loved running free, and I loved feeling her fur between my fingers—sometimes we spent days to weeks away to months wandering around, leaping over borders, exploring the world in our own way. We’d leave out chickens with our neighbours and disappear.

 

The world is a beautiful place. The colours and the shapes and the music all weave together in one big tapestry of being. Yes, the ugliness is there. In all of us, though not all of us can be as strong as Hyejin. There are still moments where my vision of the tapestry is stained by my own beasts, but it's different now. I have Hyejin, who is always by my side, ready to rub off those stains.

 

She makes me feel so effortlessly beautiful, even in the darkest days. She makes me feel so strong, even when I'm not. She makes me feel like I can touch the moon and bite the sun, but none of that would be as fulfilling as simply existing beside her.

 

And I guess that's the kind of love that makes us human.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a piece for The Fireroasted Songbook on AsianFanfics, a collection of one-shots based on my personal playlist. The initial idea was conceived out of a song called "Fruits Défendus" by Brigitte Boisjoli. 
> 
> While I was brainstorming about this story in my head, I had put myself on a writing ban, and I had this beautiful image of Wheein meeting the beast. I wish, as I often do, that I was a better artist so I can express the painting in my head  
> 
> I hope instead that I could inspire artists, and if I could plant that seed of inspiration, I hope you will think of me. I'm starving to know the images you have in your mind when you read this. 
> 
> If you liked this piece, please consider visiting the rest of my collection on AsianFanfics by clicking the hyperlink on "END"
> 
> As usually, all support is greatly appreciated! And if you're bored, drop me a line on AFF or Twitter (@fireroastedmoo) if you have any questions, comments, or concerns :)


	2. Under the Stars

We stood hand-in-hand on the beach where we first made love. The world was a pastel pink washed in oranges and reds as we strolled along the water’s edge.

Hyejin stopped, gently tugging me to a halt beside her. “Do you think you’ll get tired of this one day?” she said, shielding her eyes as she looked out at the horizon. I kissed her knuckle and smiled and assured her I wouldn’t.

“Do you ever miss the city?” She dug her toes in the sand. “Miss being surrounded by other people all the time?”

“Hyejin.” I pulled her in and pressed my lips against hers, tasting the sweetness of love and tartness of uncertainty. Her eyes shone like a map of stars, always there to lead me home. “You’ve taken my across the world and beyond. You’ve shown me things I never thought I would ever see. You’ve given me the sun, the moon, the stars—everything and so much more.” I swept her hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. “I don’t need any more than that. I’m right where I want to be, living my dream beside the love of my life.”

The sun descended as she leapt into me, pushing me into the sand with a salt-stained kiss. The stars arose as she wrapped me up in her silver fur, as she watched our still, sparkling world without a word. I nudged into her neck, and looked up at her glowing, white eyes. She purred, and gently nudged me back with the side of her head.

Do you want to go to the cliff?

“I don’t care where I go as long as I have you, Hyejin.”

She let out a soft two-syllable grunt, like an echo in the deepest parts of the ocean—a sound I’ve come to love as her laughter.

We rode the winds across the leaves to the cliff where we first met. She landed in the shadow of the moonlight with the grace of a feather, and blew a soft breeze across the field of fawn lilies. A flash of light and she stood, a silhouette of her back against the pale moonlight. I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her like it was the easiest thing in the world. Absentmindedly, she stroked the skin between fingers against her stomach, and looked out at the night.

“Look how bright the city shines from here,” she said lightly.

I hummed against her shoulder.

“I don’t think there is another species on earth that has tried to recreate the stars in their own world.” Her voice was tinged with awe.

“You can’t see it when you’re in there,” I said with a chuckle. “The world lights up. It never changes. Look how big the rest of the world is! But when you’re in there, your world is your house to work. Your house to your favourite café. It stops at the limits of the city, and we never look up or beyond.”

The breeze rustled the leaves below us. A solitary bird flew across the moon and disappeared into the night. Still, the city and the stars twinkled.

“I wonder if it’s really that different,” Hyejin said. “There must be lovers down there running down the streets, hand-in-hand, looking into each other’s eyes and finding the whole world inside them. Running like they can conquer the world together no matter where they are.” She shifted in my arms to find my eyes. I blinked. She smirked, and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck for a kiss. “It’s not so different from us, is it?” she murmured against my lips.

“You’re always such a romantic,” I laughed.

Hyejin grinned. “Because I love seeing the way your heart glows orange.”

I playfully punched her shoulder, protesting the cheesiness, but laughing all the same. Her laugh lit up the skies, sending me through the clouds and grounding me at the same time. I held her close as the vibrations of our love and joy bounced off one another. When the laughter subsided, and we stood grinning at each other on the white cliffs like a pair of fools in love, I reached into my pocket.

“What’s this?” she said.

“It’s not much,” I said, “but happy birthday, Hyejin.”

I unfolded my fingers and pulled out a long loop of braided twine, green and brown, interweaving together in a thin, imperfect necklace. I blushed at the rudimentary craftsmanship, but she eased my mind with a beaming grin as covered my hands in hers and led the necklace over her head and around her neck.

“It’s not much,” I repeated, drawing my hands back shyly.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with the neighbours,” she chuckled, fingering the bumps in the design. “It’s perfect.” She paused, and assessed me for a moment. “You don’t believe me.”

“Ah, well I know it’s not very pretty. I really wanted to get you something special, but I couldn’t afford anything else. I wanted a pendant a least, a flower or something, but—”

She covered my rambling excuses with her lips, easing the words out from my fluttering heart. Her love swept me over like the ocean waves, and I sighed into her touch. All at once, I was calm.

“I love it,” she whispered from a breath away. I stroked her shoulder, my thumb brushing against the twine, and I believed her.

“I love you,” I replied.

“I love you too.”

“Happy birthday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely dedicated to Hyejin and her beautiful soul. Thank you so much for blessing us with "City of Stars." 
> 
> Happy birthday, precious maknae!


	3. Beauty and the Silver Beast: A Behind-The-Scenes Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since posting this story, I've been obsessed about this world and all the bits and pieces that went into the creation of this world. I thought I would finally put all these thoughts to words, mostly so I can stop spamming my friends about it.
> 
> This is by no means the only interpretation of my story. Though I wrote the story, I'm a firm believer that the intentions and the meaning behind the story is no longer my own once it's out in the world.
> 
> This piece is just breakdown of my thoughts, process, and everything that went into the creation of this story. 
> 
> I will be breaking them down by category, and they are in no particular order of importance. There are likely things that I have missed, so feel free to shoot me a message!

 

**Wheein**

 

They say that it's impossible to write a story without inserting yourself into it in some way, shape, or form. Wheein is far from being an exception. If anything else, she is my own frustrations embodied. At the same time, I hoped to convey that she is all of us in some way. Her search for beauty is synonymous with her search for meaning, especially in our fast-paced world. Though I've set her journey between the city and the natural world, it's simply a metaphor for any two worlds you might find yourself caught in. I think we all exist in different worlds in some way, and we will always romanticize the world we aren't a part of.

Her obsession with the forest is built upon the expectations that come with her romanticism. Hyejin, as a native of the natural world, tries to warn her against the dangers of this world, but Wheein isn't convinced. Hyejin and Wheein represent the same thing: the beauty and the beast. Wheein's time in the forest allows her to shirk off the oppressive order of the city, which adds to her wildness. Beast is a rather harsh word in our world, representing a being that is both unrestrained and maybe even dangerous. In this case, I think Wheein's beasts--her intense desire for freedom, individuality, and self-expression--can definitely be self-destructive.

Of course, the focus isn't on Wheein's inner demons. Like most first-person narrators, she is unreliable. Is the lagoon really lapis lazuli? Is it the city that suffocates her, or is it the world she built around herself?

From this point of view, one must wonder a little about Hyejin.

 

**Hyejin**

 

If Wheein represents the internal struggle, then Hyejin is the physical manifestation of this same struggle. Hyejin has three forms: the beast, the cat-eyes, and the human. All three are a part of her and her instincts, and there is no cure for them.

Between the three forms, the monster weaves around them. The monster is solely Hyejin's term for her own appetites. It's the dark part of our personality that we can't control, triggered by instinct. In many ways, I think the monster can also be self-doubt, fear, insecurity, negative emotions that can really take over in ways you can't control.

The beast and the monster, two very different entities, exist separately. In my mind, much like it is with Wheein, the beast represents a kind of strength that can only be gained by overcoming challenges and accepting both the good and bad parts of your personality. Beyond  bridging the two, there also needs to be a level of freedom that you grant yourself. In other words, when you learn to let go and appreciate yourself and all your imperfections, there is a unique kind of strength that comes from that.

This is why I allowed Hyejin to switch freely between her beast and human forms. It's a choice to embrace both sides, and it allows her to live freely in two very different ways. A compromise!

The cat-eyed form, originally more of an aesthetic thing, has become a symbol of Hyejin's sexual appetite. She mistakes this instinct for her monster, and in many ways (for her) it's a source of shame that feeds the monster. As someone who is solely ruled by freedom and natural instinct, Hyejin values reason, logic, and clear judgment--the things that separate us as humans. Many of the things that go against that (I.e. Intense appetites) are reminders of her animalistic side, thus feeding the shame.

Hyejin's beast form is kept vague on purpose. I really wanted everyone to get their own sense of her appearance. Everyone I've talked to so far has shared some fabulous interpretations, and I think that is one of the unique beauties about the written word.

One of my favourite ideas about this iteration of Hyejin is that she is absolutely massive, yet she manages to hide. She's the beast in the forest that no one has discovered. (Lord of the Flies, anyone?) Part if the appeal for me was that 1) I love smol Wheein, 2) imagine how comfortable it would be to sleep on Hyejin, and 3) a giant creature flittering from tree to tree is just beautiful and fantastic. Most of Hyejin's design is about aesthetic, but from an analytical standpoint, her size might capitalize on her loneliness too.

One of the finer details about Hyejin's appearance is that she isn't fully silver. Her backside is actually streaked with black--however you'd like to picture that. I only brought this up once to introduce you to the idea of Hyejin's imperfection, and it would be perfectly natural to skip over this detail, just as many of us would subconsciously choose to skip over details of our own romanticized imperfections.

And in Wheein's eyes, of course (and by extension our own), this mysterious creature is perfect. She is thrilling, exciting, beautiful, and embodies everything she expects from the world outside of her own.

You might wonder why she doesn't simply change forms and live among the others in the city that she loves so much. I don't have a fast and hard explanation for that, but my hypothesis is that she must exist in balance. The beast and the human are one, and must exist in tandem. Another might be her fear of humanity as well. Her back story would warrant a whole new fic altogether, but when you want to be free to turn into a massive creature, it would be pretty difficult to coexist among normal humans in the middle of a big city without causing a ruckus.

At the end of the day, Hyejin is more and no less human than Wheein is, and they work together to balance each other out. Much like the real Hyejin and Wheein, I hope! (They're so lovely.)

 

**The Lagoon**

 

Again, this began as a very aesthetic piece of my mental landscape. I love water, and I love being by or in the water. And as the story progressed, the lagoon began to be more and more important, both to me and to Wheein.

To me the lagoon represents a kind of forbidden, ethereal world, especially one that you hold very high on your pedestal. Wheein doesn't go near it at first. In a way, this is similar to her struggle with the natural world. As soon as she stepped foot inside the physical forest and out of her fantasies, she began to look closer. When you look closer, you start noticing things. In that moment, while she stood by the tree and watched from afar, she didn't want to those expectations to collapse.

The scene of Wheein's first meeting with Hyejin established the entire story in my mind. I imagined the lagoon glowing white and everything else in silhouette, and that was the image I ran with. Incidentally, the blue lagoon in Brigitte Boisjoli's "Fruit Défendus" was inspiration for that scene. I borrowed the theme of boredom and a couple of other lines.

 

**The Farm**

 

I struggled a lot with the ending. I didn't know what to do with Hyejin as a beast, and I briefly toyed with the idea of leaving her be. She'll go out and hunt every once awhile but will otherwise live a very normal life. I ran this idea by my friend, and she told me that this method didn't offer up enough closure.

I thought about it, and she was right. What would she gain from being with Wheein? I knew from the beginning that she could not get rid of her beast forms, but fortunately other struggles began to surface as the story went on.

As mentioned, the monster and the appetite to feed is a great source of shame for Hyejin, but with Wheein's help she manages to weed out the instinct. In a way, she becomes tamed. I liked this idea for the happy ending, and the idea that if we work hard enough and wanted it badly enough, anyone can change. We can be who we want to be.

The problem was that I didn't like the cliché of Wheein being a nurturing figure, much like Belle in the classic Beauty and the Beast. Wheein wasn't a perfect, pure, innocent girl with the power to love the flaws away, and Hyejin wasn't a hopelessly aggressive beast who just needed love. At least, I hoped that my characters could be more than that.

This is why I kept the cat-eyed form. As much as I love happy endings, I kept this part of Hyejin. Symbolically, this represents the parts of us that we don't like, that we may even find inconvenient. Maybe this is something we simply cannot change. But Wheein and Hyejin learn to work around it. Alternatively, one might view this decision to be destructive. Hampering down one's instincts and desires usually prove to be pretty destructive.

The farm is therefore the compromise between  civilization and wilderness. They exist alongside few others, and are free enough to do whatever they want. This is a bit of my own romanticism seeping in, of course, but I loved the image of their beautiful pastoral life. The age of pastoral literature, unrealistic as it might've been, was a beautiful image to end on, I think. Realistically, it's unlikely that they could exist peacefully, but though they have semi-realistic financial problems, their life becomes a compromise with fantasy. After Wheein's long journey, realism is the last thing she needs or wants. For us as readers, consumers of this world, can happily follow Wheein's lead.

Chickens…because Hyejin loves chickens, of course! This is probably the only fic (as of this writing) where Hyejin and chicken are mentioned side by side, but Hyejin is a vegetarian. Vegetarian Hyejin was the logical choice in this story, once again considering her value for judgement, reason, self-control, etc. Because of her past atrocities toward animals, peacefully raising chickens may be a way of atoning for her wrongs.

Plus, it's just a cute image. To appropriate a line from Stephanie Meyer: "And the lion fell in love with her chickens."

 

**Wildflowers**

 

When it comes to beauty, what has been more overrepresented than flowers? While this story isn't set in any particular place, I spent some time searching for wildflowers in Korea. Turns out, Asian fawn lilies grew outside of Jeonju. Isn't that just perfect? What's more is that they are often revered for their beauty, especially because the curve of their petals are reminiscent of a woman's hair in the good old hanbok days.

Originally, I wanted Hyejin to bring this up in order to emphasize the arbitrary nature of flower meanings. Aside from roses, lilies are one of the most overwritten representatives of the flower language. I personally love flower language, much like I love tarot and astronomy and other things chock full of man-made symbols. Our world is full of meaning, especially those that we construct for ourselves, and what is more constructed than our concepts of beauty?

Instead of the flower language thing, I decided to have Hyejin compare the flower to herself. Just as we attribute random meanings to flowers and decide which ones are more beautiful than others, Wheein has done the same to Hyejin right from the beginning.

 

**Souls**

 

I don't have a real explanation for why Hyejin had to be able to read minds. I just knew I wanted it, and I'm glad I went with the impulse.  Her ability to analyze people's hearts is another isolating factor to her personality. She can never unsee how people think about her, nor can she control it. I also liked what this ability has done for our narrator's point of view and the reverse dramatic irony. Because Hyejin can see more than we can, the reader has perhaps the least amount of information. This way, it brings us further out as a third-party observer, especially with Wheein's unreliable narration. We are experiencing it all, yet not, which I think subconsciously highlights this as an individual experience. Wheesa's story and struggles might be similar to our own, but ultimately we need to pave our own stories and fight our own demons.

 

I went through several ideas about Hyejin's ability to read minds. At first, it was going to be very straightforward. Whatever Wheein thinks, she can hear the words right away. Unfortunately, I know that the human brain is not so straightforward, and I couldn't shake that fact. Finally, I chose these abstract blobs of souls when I could think of nothing else, and I was very glad I could play with the colour imagery! As much of this story plays on perception and interpretation, I liked the idea that Hyejin could be wrong about reading hearts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read to the very end, I must applaud and thank you for your dedication to my story.
> 
> I would really love to know your thoughts on the different elements that I've touched on! I'm all for conversations, so don't be shy! If there's anything else you'd like me to discuss, just let me know.
> 
> Hopefully, I'll see you all soon!


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